A rose by any other name
by wobbear
Summary: Grissom and Sara really need to talk. GSR


**A rose by any other name **

**Author **wobbear  
**Rating** T  
**Disclaimer** I own neither CSI nor the characters; so what else is new?  
**Author's note/spoiler info "**Inspired" by a brief exchange in8x06 _Who & What_. Set a couple of months after G and S got together, whenever you think that was. Fair warning, it's silly.

**Summary **Grissom and Sara really need to talk.

* * *

Things were going well, Sara thought, really well. Grissom had finally stopped fighting his feelings for her, and they'd been seeing a lot of each other. But in one sense of the phrase only: although they'd been spending a lot of time in each other's company, she hadn't seen any more of his skin than she'd ever viewed at work. True, there had been some heated make-out sessions, and she had slipped her hand under his shirt more than once. Their clothes always stayed on, and she craved more contact with his soft, scorching skin. Full contact. 

They were good together, they were better than she'd ever day-dreamed they might be. In her mind they were way past the nominal third date zone, but he was holding back. His body had confirmed his enjoyment of their close encounters, but still he was holding back. For a man so fond of baseball, Grissom seemed strangely reluctant to score a home run. Maybe he had his reasons, and perhaps they were good ones, but she was going to have it out with him ─ she was determined, she would do it tonight.

He had invited her to his place for dinner, for only the second time. They mostly spent their time at her place, and she had started wondering about that too. After work, he would go home for an hour or two, then turn up at her door. Sometimes he had showered and changed, but more often he hadn't, so why wasn't he coming straight to her place? Did he think that she needed some space, or was he the one who needed the time out? They would have to talk that through too. They didn't need to be in each other's pockets, but she wanted to understand what was going on.

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Grissom was smiling, a lot; something was wrong. In the normal run of things of course he _did_ smile, grin and smirk, but sparingly. This constant near grimace had put Sara on edge. Grissom, it seemed, was nervous too. Along with the smiling, he kept opening his mouth as if to say something, then instead would either reach for his bottle of Amber Bock, or kiss her, both silently.

"Gil, we need to talk."

After a moment's panicked staring, he breathed out, "Ah, yes, we do." He stopped, cleared his throat and then added, "But may I say something first?"

_Now_ he wanted to speak? What an odd man he was. "Sure, go right ahead."

"I, uh, I've been enjoying getting closer to you the last few weeks. Um … I think you have too."

She nodded, smiling softly.

"Okay, good." He took a couple of deep breaths and unclenched his fists. "There's something I've been wanting to tell you, that I need to say … before we go any, uh, further. I hope that it won't make a difference, but of course it's your decision─"

"You're not opening up about your ear surgery, are you?" She couldn't help it, the tension of waiting for him to finally spit out whatever it was, had got to her.

"Oh … you know about that, do you?" He pondered for a moment and then shrugged. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

Sara raised her eyebrows in a silent "So?"

"Well, uh, no, it's not that."

His face wore that earnest expression, the one that he had when he was trying very hard to be open and frank with her. She loved that he was taking it, them, seriously, but found herself biting back an 'out with it already' comment.

He shifted around to face her, and reached out to grasp her left hand.

_Shit, he wasn't about to propose, was he? _She wasn't averse to the idea, but ─ _it was way too soon, wasn't it? They'd only been together for two months. They needed more time. At least she did._ Sara was starting to feel very jittery.

He bowed his head for a moment as he rubbed his thumb over her fingers. At length he looked up, and the resolve in his blue eyes was clear.

"Sara, what I need to tell you is that … I have a dog."

She shook her head. Was _her_ hearing going now? "A dog?"

"Yes, a dog. A three-year old undocked neutered male boxer, to be precise."

"And …?"

But he had stopped talking.

"This was your big secret?" As an afterthought Sara smiled, trying to soften her incredulous tone.

"Um, yeah. Yes."

Now that the big reveal was over, he seemed to relax a little, moving closer to her as he spoke.

"It's just--I don't think we've ever talked about pets, and I didn't know … whether you like dogs." He lapsed into silence and stared at his knees.

Sara had the distinct feeling that wasn't what he'd been meaning to say. With it came a strange urge to fill the silence with words.

"Phew. If that's what's been worrying you, stop. Just stop. I like dogs, all dogs. Always wanted a dog. Okay, I'm not wild on tiny toy ones, but if they've got character, even them." _Yep, now she was babbling._

"But …" He still looked uneasy. "He's a boxer, Sara."

"Yeah, I heard." She did her best Gilbert imitation ─ it usually made him laugh ─ tilting her head to one side and intoning gravely, "boxer, of the class mammalia, order carnivora, subspecies canis lupus familiaris. Not intrinsically cute, but can be charming in their own way."

He conjured up a feeble smirk. The Gilbert gimmick hadn't really worked.

"And hey, it's great that he's still got his tail."

Grissom cleared his throat. Sara waited, as patiently as possible.

"Sara, boxers dribble, they slobber. A lot." He shuddered lightly and Sara tried not to.

"Ooooh, I get it now. My saliva issue … did Warrick rat on me?"

Grissom looked at his hands, patently reluctant to speak. But clearly he didn't want to lie either and soon he caved, admitting, "Well, yeah, he might've let it slip a while back."

"And ever since we started seeing each other, you've been freaking out about what this might mean, am I right?"

"No, no … well, uh, that's to say … uh …" He looked up at her and sighed. "Yeah."

"Wait a second … what did you do with him that evening you cooked me dinner here?"

Grissom had decided to examine his thumbnail. He shook his head, cheeks pinkening. After another hefty sigh, he spoke in a rush, "Itiredhimoutwithalongwalkandagameoffetch,thenbribedhimwithabigbowlofkibbleandtiedhimupbyhiskennelinthebackyardandhewenttosleep."

Sara was torn between exasperation and fighting a giggle. "And unless he always lives outside, which I doubt in the Las Vegas heat, you also hid his bowls, leash, toys …"

Grissom nodded, by now bright red. "In the garage. Where they are today."

Sara decided to take pity on him. The poor guy had been twisting himself into silly knots over this. It was stupid, but it was sort of sweet too.

"Gil, there's a big difference between a bucket full of spit and a slobbery dog. Any way, if it gets too much, surely he can be trained not to 'kiss' me."

Grissom looked doubtful, and there was a glimmer of a smile starting in his eyes. "I think I'd find that very difficult." He pursed his lips in an exaggerated smooch.

"But that's because you're projecting, Gilbert." She grinned broadly; finally he was lightening up. "Is he out in the yard now? What's his name?"

Just like that, he tensed up again.

_What the hell was wrong now? _

She watched as he tried to get a grip, taking deep breaths and flexing his fingers to dispel his renewed tension.

"Right," he muttered under his breath, raising his perturbed eyes again to meet hers. "There's just one other thing."

"Yeah?" Sara tried to look interested, unthreatening.

He blew out his cheeks in a puff of air, and launched into it. "Y'see, I got him from my aunt. She rescued him as a puppy ─ it's a long story ─ but she had to enter an assisted-living center last year and they don't allow dogs, so I said I'd take him."

"Aw, that was sweet of you. You're a sweet, sweet man, you know that?" She brushed his cheek as he blushed adorably and flapped his hand as if to deflect the compliment.

"Uh … but there's more." Warming to it now, he reached out and grasped her hand in his, like a lifeline.

"You have to understand, she's a big baseball fan. Huge. She's a Braves fan through and through, but she used to take me to Dodgers' games when she visited after my Dad died." His eyes went dreamy for a moment as he wallowed in nostalgia, then brought himself back to the task at hand. "And she has this, uh, quirk. Every pet she's had since 1973 has had the same name. It must've been confusing for them, because she often had a dog, a cat and a parrot at the same time, 'the terrible trio' she always called them."

"Huh. That's a little strange, but I guess it's her choice. What's this name she loves so much?"

"Ah, yeah, well, that's the thing. She's a Braves fan─"

"You said that already." Sara was trying to give him the time he needed, but patience was not one of her many virtues.

"Okay, all right!" He held up his hands in surrender. "All her pets are named after Henry Louis Aaron."

"Henry Louis Aaron." Sara slowly rolled the name off her lips, trying to remember where she'd heard it before. "Funny name for a pet."

This process was becoming more painful by the second.

Grissom groaned quietly and gritted his teeth. "He's an amazing baseball player, retired now, and he's known by his nickname."

The penny finally dropped for Sara. "Ahhhhh. _Hank_. Hank Aaron."

She thought for a moment.

"Griss, just because I had a bad experience with one Hank doesn't mean I'm anti the name per se. Is that what you were so worried about?"

Grissom shifted uneasily as he mumbled, "Well, not the name so much, maybe the memory, the association."

His concern was touching, but she had long since got over the cheating EMT.

"You know, you could've told me all this in five words, easy."

"Five words?"

She counted them out on her fingers, pretending to check. "Yup, five words."

"Sara …"

"'Love me, love my dog.'"

Grissom stared at her, mouth gaping.

Sara added, "I do, so I will."

He engulfed her.

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_Epidogue _

Waking for the first time in Grissom's bedroom, it occurred to Sara that she no longer had to have the 'big talk' with Grissom. _Heee. His silly dog talk had done the trick_. She would replay it all in her head later, but right now she was starving.

His side of the bed was empty, but the sheets were still warm. Probably his getting up was what had wakened her. She could hear faint clattering from the kitchen, and suddenly remembered that they had missed dinner.

After grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches, Sara stretched lazily and said, "So, I want to meet handsome Hank."

"Yeah, it's high time."

Grissom went out back and returned with his dog, who immediately spotted Sara and wriggled against Grissom's hold of his collar.

"Hank, heel." He let go of the collar and started across the large room, checking that the dog was obeying. A couple of feet from Sara, Grissom — and Hank — stopped.

"Sit."

Although almost beside himself with the excitement of the interesting new person, the boxer sat on command and Grissom smiled fondly at him. Hank's quick response earned him a head rub.

"Say hello to Sara."

The right paw went up, and Sara bent down to shake hands, grinning broadly. "Hey there, boy. You're a sweetie, aren't you?"

His tail slapped rhythmically on the hard floor. She let him sniff her hand and then fondled the soft furry folds on his head. He pushed against her hand, snuffly eager. She crouched down to his level. "You can't help your name, can you? Anyway, maybe I can give you a nickname."

Hank smiled open-mouthed at her, tail wagging vigorously.

"Oh yeah, you're a DB."

More tail wagging, and Hank tried to bury his nose in her crotch.

Grissom had been watching with quiet delight as Sara and Hank got acquainted, but now he spoke up. "Uh, sorry, that's one of the things he does. Just push his head aside and he'll nuzzle your thigh instead."

Sara counted to four in her head before Grissom came back with, "DB? _DB_?! No, I draw the line at nicknaming him after a dead body."

She tamped down her rising giggle. He was so cute when he was being protective. "The evidence does not lie; you work way too much."

Sara gently thumped Hank's flanks and chest and he leaned into her for more. Meanwhile Grissom stared stonily, mutely demanding an explanation.

"Gil, it's not what you think. It's a very appropriate name." She pressed her lips together to squelch her smile.

Grissom looked doubtful, but waited for her to speak.

"'DB' is for 'dog breath'."

He shrugged, grinning at last. "Yeah, that fits."

"What's in a name anyway? You can be a Hank if you want to, can't you boy? _Eeeek!_" Sara narrowly escaped a face full of boxer slobber, and Grissom laughed out loud.

He bent down to pat Hank and airily quoted, "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"... and dog breath will always smell like dog breath."

END

* * *

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." 

William Shakespeare _Romeo and Juliet_ act 2, sc 2, l 43


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